


You're Not Him

by 69louis



Series: Scar and Leave Me [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst?, Cheating, Love Triangle, M/M, bottom!Louis, i'm shit at tags, like i said if you squint, not as smutty as I intended but it's there if you squint, oh yeah also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:40:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/69louis/pseuds/69louis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They told me to stay away from people like you, without realizing that I wasn't any better. So I’m gonna stick around. Even if us two negatives end up making some sort of fucked up positive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Not Him

Harry is slow to wake, autumn light feeble and grey as it streams weakly through the curtains, and casts a faint glow on the body occupying the space next to him.

He blinks and suddenly it's not the leggy blonde girl he'd picked up at the pub last night curled next to him, and he's not laying in her bed, in her apartment. He's 19 again and a lot less bitter, in his dorm room, watching Louis sleep, blinking the crust from his eyes as he takes in the gentle curve of the boys' torso, the way his lips puff out every time he exhales, the curve in his spine as his back sharply bows and gives way to his ass.

For a second Harry feels out of depth, because honestly there aren't a lot of things that makes him feel woozy anymore, it takes a fifth of vodka and way too many cigarettes to make him feel even a little light headed, but Louis, after all this time, doesn't even have to be conscious, or present for that matter, to makes Harry feel like his world is spinning off it's axis.

19 year old Louis is flawless, no tattoos yet, he isn't even able to grow a proper beard and he's gorgeous and young and glad to be alive. Shiny almost and Harry hates himself at how different Louis is now, hates himself because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he is the reason Louis' shine has dulled. And Harry just aches to go back. Aches to be back in the tiny dorm room, squished close to Louis' body on the shitty mattress provided by the university.

But they haven't slept that closely in months, even after sex they roll away from each other in their too big bed and fall asleep on opposite sides of the mattress feeling like they're on the opposite sides of the universe. And Harry wants to yank his own hair out at how angry he is, at himself for ripping a part their already laughably fragile relationship, at himself for not just reaching out and hauling Louis back up against his chest where he belonged. But he's also mad at Louis. Pissed beyond belief that he could not only walk away, but stay gone from all of this.

He's snapped back to reality by the sharp swoop of nausea that knots up his stomach, he doesn't feel like embarrassing himself by being sick in a stranger's bed, so he heaves himself to his feet as quietly as possible, finds his clothes and leaves.

As Harry flees from the building as quickly as his shaky legs, and pounding head will allow he is suddenly struck with an aching that wracks through his whole body, and it's weird how final that feels. How permanent Harry knows the feeling in his chest he gets when he looks at Louis is, how positive he is that it'll never go away.

Not that he ever wants it to, he likes the reminder that sits heavily on his conscious of how royally he fucked up, because for the first time, he thinks maybe ever, he feels like he's sure of something. Harry is a lot of things, stubborn and annoying neutral all at the same time, but he's never been sure about anything until Louis.

The doubt crept in though somehow. Along with Louis' new found obsession with his work, and Harry's new friends. And the rift builds, the space between them in bed widens, and there's just nothing left to stand on, so Harry cheats. Doesn't even really feel guilty until Louis finds out, and Harry watches his glow dwindle just that much more.

-

Louis' not sure how he falls into bed with Nick Grimshaw of all people, but he guesses that this is some subconscious way his mind has decided on paying Harry back for dragging through absolute hell since Christmas.

They run into each other completely on accident. Louis sitting alone at a pub somewhere in east London, dainty yet callused hand wrapped around the handle of his pint as he stares up at the footy match playing on mute on a TV behind the bar. The pub is empty, save for a few blokes shooting pool and Louis' content with his solitude.

And then he's not alone. There's a lanky figure pressed up to the bar next to him, saying he's heard about the break up, apologizing and Louis wants to laugh in his face, because Nick, regardless of whether he knew it or not, was one of the biggest contributing factors to the inevitable demise of _HarryandLouis_.

Louis was busy, is the thing. It isn't easy getting leading rolls fresh out of uni, in London no less, and it's even harder to keep them, so Louis throws himself into it, tunnel vision in full force, and he feels himself drifting from Harry, knows that he works too much and isn't around enough, but it's easy to rationalize; rehearsals and the play only run for a few months, Louis' given Harry four of the best years of his life, he thought that he could count on Harry to hold them together while they drifted, but he opened his eyes on the night of the last curtain call, and Harry, well Harry is with Nick.

And Harry's new set of friends that he's somehow acquired and become so so close to seem to have taken up the place that Louis used to fill in Harry's life. Louis tries though, stands next to Harry at terribly dull parties that Louis is guilt tripped into attending while he and Harry are still trying, and failing miserably, to make it work. Over time it became just another little piece of Harry that Louis can't touch, another reason added to the list of why things just weren't working, another nail in their relationship's coffin.

But with three pints in him Louis can sort of understand why Harry seemed to find Nick so charming, all be it in a terribly dry sort of way. The pub starts emptying out, it's a lot later than Louis had thought, he's a lot more drunk than he'd intended to be, and without really realizing it he's sharing a cab with Nick.

They are heading the same way at least, Louis rationalizes it in his head, his new flat in the same direction as Nick's, and he tries not to focus on the fact that Nick's hand is resting far too close to Louis' thigh as they sit next to each other in the dim back seat of the cab, tries to close his ears to Nick's labored breathes, to block out the sharp scent of Nick's cologne, but something in the air between them shatters, and Nick is on him before he can really even blink.

It's all hot tongues, and soft lips. The scratch of Nick's stubble feels weird against Louis' face, kissing someone besides Harry after 4 years feels weird in general, and Louis wonders if Harry had felt equally confused with foreign lips on his, but pushes it to the back of his mind when Nick's spidery fingers grip Louis' upper thighs firmly, making his dick ache and his breath hitch as he pulls away just enough to groan "I've always thought you were so fucking fit." against Louis' lips.

Louis feels a thrill of something malicious and hot run down his spine. "Yeah?" he asks, curiosity spiked, wanting to hear more.

And Nick flicks his tongue out between his lips, nodding "Wanted you ever since I first saw you, can't believe Harry was stupid enough to cheat."

Louis' not stupid, and he knows when he's being manipulated, but it's fine because he's using Nick too. Nick wants to get off, and Louis wants to get even so he guesses that the exchange is pretty equal.

The cab stops in front of Nick's flat, and Louis doesn't have time to hesitate before he's being dragged from the back seat. Nick's more experienced than Louis, obviously, Louis' been fucking the same boy for years, at one point prided himself on how well he knew Harry's body, but Nick is different, shoulders not as broad as Louis clings to his back, fingers not as nimble, and Louis' nervous, somehow though Nick senses that. He's different in bed than Louis expects him to be, almost gentle, takes Louis' shaky hands in his as he stretches him out, and then fucks him achingly slow until Louis' almost sobbing at how good he feels.

Afterwards, when they're still sweaty and sticky with cum Nick pulls Louis into his chest, wraps his thin wrist around Louis' middle and is out before Louis can make a noise.

And it goes like that for a while, they accidentally on purpose run into each other at places they know the other will be, Nick is inexplicably Harryless every time they do, and they either end up fucking in the loo, or taking it back to Nick's flat to have it out on the sofa. Louis wants to ask what Nick's getting out of this exchange, it can't possibly be just about the sex, but they never talk about that. Not even on the odd occasion, that slowly becomes less odd, when they order in take away Chinese and cuddle in Nick's living room.

Occasionally Louis will come over to Nick's flat, see one of Harry's terrible flannel shirts he's become accustomed to wearing and then subsequently leaving everywhere, and he'll get a pang of longing, gets the urge to ask Nick how Harry's doing, ask if he's okay, but he's too afraid to fuck up whatever terrible mismatched arrangement they've got set up. Terrified that he'll hear that Harry's moved on, got someone else and is happy. Or worse, he'll hear the opposite, Nick will tell him that Harry is miserable and Louis will fuck everything up by trying to call him, try and make it all better like he always does. But he can't, he tells himself, not this time. Not anymore.

So, instead Louis decides to simply live with uncertainty while it's still not eating him up, block out the ache to know how Harry is, to hear his voice, and focus on the steady rock of Nick's hips as he fucks into him, the scratch of the stubble on his thighs when Nick licks him out. Harry is an after thought, or at least Louis is trying to make him so.

**Author's Note:**

> Sigh sigh sigh. This was only supposed to be two parts, and I thought I could wrap it up, but I lack the concentration. And it's been at least a month since the last bit, so. There will be one more installment after this and then that's that. Kudos and comments are appreciated.


End file.
